


Prompt Fills & Co.

by sevdepayne



Category: Football RPF
Genre: I'm too lazy to tag them like that, Individual Ratings for Chapters, M/M, Sorry Kevin, prompt fills, some ships are implied, some ships are past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/pseuds/sevdepayne
Summary: All sorts of one shots, prompt fills, drabbles etc. from my Tumblr inbox.





	1. wake me up when may ends (Romartin)

**Author's Note:**

> These are all unbeta'd and sloppily edited, so excuse all the mistakes you may see. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romartin + [ 12\. things you said when you thought i was asleep.](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/post/173682124452/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a)
> 
> Rating: General
> 
> Sets right after [Not Married (But Definitely With A Child)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14541183)
> 
> Enjoy!

“So… What should we do to make sure that you will not fall asleep for the next 20 hours?” Roman asks to his boyfriend when they’re on their way back home from the obligatory post-game team dinner. “And don’t suggest anything related to sex, because you always fall asleep on me the moment we are done.”

When the other defender doesn’t respond to him, Roman immediately knows that it means only one thing. He looks to his right for a brief moment to confirm what he thought just moments ago, and sees that yes, he is definitely not wrong. Somehow Martin once again managed to fall asleep through Roman’s non-stop talking.

“Martin, wake up,” he nudged him with his free hand. “Babe, c’mon, wake up. We’re almost at home.” He even throws at him the Kleenex pack he finds within his arm’s reach. And yet, that huge sack of potatoes he calls his boyfriend’s sound asleep, clearly not bothered by Roman’s badgering.

He stops at the first gas station he’s seen to check up on him and unbuckles his seatbelt to lean over the gearshift.

“Honey, c’mon,” he says to Martin while kissing his neck. “When did you become such a sleepy head anyway?”

He checks if Martin’s still breathing or not, just to make sure that nothing is wrong with him yet. When he puts his hand before Martin’s mouth and feels the hot breath in his palm, he sighs with great relief. If Vinny were in the car with them, he’d probably say that Roman’s fussing a lot.

Honestly, Vincent Janssen can go to hell for all he cares, Roman’s proud to be a concerned boyfriend and sees nothing wrong with being _too careful_ with the love of his life. Especially after such a horrible injury.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry that I’m doing this,” Roman says to his boyfriend, who’s still perfectly asleep and not dead. “It’s really for your own sake.”

“I’m really, really, sorry.”

He grabs the water bottle from the backseat, and throws almost half of it to Martin’s face.

“WHAT THE HELL,” Martin jumps from his seat and yells at the same time. To be honest, the look on his face is hilarious at that moment, but Roman doesn’t have the heart to make fun of him. Of course, he makes a mental note to bring up the resemblance between Martin and a deer caught in headlights when this whole injury is over.

“I’m sorry, _schatz_ , but I couldn’t wake you up normally.”

Martin rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and if he’s being totally honest, the cold water is a great help in that matter. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you,” Martin says.

Roman rolls his eyes fondly at that, that giant dork he calls his boyfriend’s so considerate and nice and just _sweet_ all the time that he makes everyone around him look like complete assholes. Roman himself included.

“Pffftt… I deserved it, but we really have to come up with a game plan for this. I can’t throw water on your face and be yelled for it all night long.”

Martin considers their options for a while, tries to make a mental list of things that usually causes him lose his sleep. Considering that Roman’s the assigned sleepy head in their relationship and Martin having the reliable body clock, this whole situation’s fairly new and kind of twisted for him.

“Okay, how about this,” says Roman. “You’re always tossing and turning whenever you think of our position in the league, so we can just go home and calculate all the possible outcomes for the next three weeks to see if there’s any chance that we’ll be champions.”

“There’s no way we can be champions anymore, dear,” Martin answers grimly.

“I know, and that will definitely keep us both awake tonight.”

***

Their coffee table’s covered with scratch papers, pens, calculators, printed out standing and fixture of the Super Lig and of course, empty coffee mugs by the time the clock above their enormous TV hit 6 am. Both Roman and Martin are looking at the final result in front of them, the only scenario that can make them champions if what they calculated miraculously becomes reality.

“So,” Martin starts while yawning. “If we win our next three games and Basaksehir and Galatasaray wins two out of three, we will be champions. A tie from Galatasaray isn’t enough right?”

“No, they have to lose, at least one of them. Basaksehir can tie though; it doesn’t make any difference for us.”

“And how about the goal differentiation? We need to be ahead of them in that, cause if they lose one and win the other two, it’ll be decided based on that.”

Roman lifts his head from the coffee table which he uses as a pillow for the last 45 minutes, tries to find the papers they calculated the goal differentiation. “Aha!” he exclaims when he finds what he’s been looking for. Then, he hands it to Martin, who’s clearly better with numbers than he has.

“Man, that’s bad, like really bad,” Martin says after thinking upon it for a while. “They’re way ahead of us, precisely five goals. Which means at some point we need to score five goals in a game? You think we have the potential of doing so? Roman?”

He doesn’t get any respond from his boyfriend, considering he’s sound asleep now even though he was wide awake four minutes before. Martin briefly thinks about waking him up in order to get his revenge for what he did on their way back, but Roman’s so adorable just like how he is all the time. His head is on the coffee table, using his forearms as a pillow, drooling a little, looking way younger than someone who just turned 30.

He grabs one of the throw pillows from the couch behind them, carefully tucking it under Roman’s head. Then, he stands up to look for a blanket, finding one in the guest room that’s usually used by Vinny. He covers his boyfriend with the blanket, makes sure that he’s warm enough.

“I know, I never told you this before, love,” he says when he makes himself more comfortable on Roman’s shoulder, hugging him from his left side. “but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that you and I become champions side by side. I’ll never stop fighting for this to come true, even if it means I have to play with a bleeding head for the rest of the season,”

“And if we can’t win it this year, then we have the next year. I won’t retire till I have a league title with you, I promise you that, baby. I love you,” Martin adds. Then, he kisses Roman’s cheek for goodnight and makes his way to the kitchen to brew another pot of coffee for himself. He needs to rely on the caffeine if his part time footballer, part time alarm clock boyfriend won’t be accompanying him for the rest of the night.

Little does he know that while he’s leaving the living room, Roman’s staring at his back with a sleepy smile on his lips, completely aware of what he just confessed. “I love you, too, baby,” he mumbles to the direction of the kitchen, hoping that they’ll win whatever they can together, just like how Martin imagines. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [ tumblr ](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/) for prompts, suggestions, comments etc. 
> 
> Also, feedback/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Thank you <3


	2. but what will we do when we're sober? (Neuller)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neuller + [11\. things you said when you were drunk.](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/post/173682124452/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a)
> 
> Rating: Teen
> 
> This is for, of course, [Meggie ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites). It was so tough for me to write about a ship I'm not particularly shipping, so I'm deeply sorry if I ruined your son and his hubby for you. But anyways, thanks for making me come out of my comfort zone. Love you <3
> 
> Enjoy!

In all fairness, Thomas realizes that all of them will remember this night with the greatest regret the moment Basti and Lukas gather in one of the empty rooms the hotel reserved for them to use. The room has an enormous coffee table in the middle, is surrounded by bean bags and fluffy pillows on the ground. On the coffee table, expensive bottles of whiskey, vodka, and tequila, and almost a hundred of shot glasses are visible.

After everyone is present in the room, Basti announces that he and Lukas come up with an incredible activity that will help them to get into the spirit of the upcoming tournament.

It is such a bullshit idea, really, considering they’re already in the spirit of the upcoming tournament. He’s completely sure that the only motive behind Basti and Poldi’s master-plan is that they are the ultimate busybodies. Of course, they are curious about the latest gossips inside the team, want to know who bangs who and all the other juicy stuff the newbies may or may not be hiding. So what could be a better plan to achieve this than making them all drunk as hell anyway?

It is already 4 in the morning when the relatively sober members of the group decide that they should call it a night and help the wasted ones to their rooms. Thomas declines all the offers from the others to help him carry a completely wasted Manuel Neuer back to their room, lifts Manu up from the ground and makes their way to the sixth floor.

“Damn you and your genius ideas, _Schweinski,_ ” he grumbles while he’s been trying so hard to not get knocked down by the weight of Manu, completely slumped down on him. “I’m never going to let them decide what to do as a team bonding activity, ever, ever again.”

Don’t get him wrong, because Thomas Müller’s definitely not a man against breaking the rules time to time, hell, on most occasions he’s the one encouraging this particular activity. However, he should admit that playing “Never Have I Ever” for three hours is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them. And it will probably be worse in the morning, when all of them are going to wake up with at least a terrible headache and have to live through the pain during the tactical meeting.

Man, they are so screwed and will be much more screwed the moment Jogi finds out that two thirds of his team were about to have an alcohol poisoning instead of sleeping the night before.

It’s a particularly though job for him to their room while he, himself, is also drunk even though he is in a better state than his other half. The whole hotel resembles a maze to him at the moment, all those floors and staircases leading to different parts of the building as if it is not a 5-star hotel but Hogwarts. Also, a drunken Manuel clinging on to him and trying to start a heated make-out session is making his quest in finding their room visibly more complicated.

Way back when they first started dating, Thomas would never think that Manuel Neuer could be this needy and, well… horny.

He was never this wrong in his entire lifetime. And if that’s possible, a drunken Manu is a thousand times more of an attention-seeker, sex-driven human being than the sober version of himself.

They’re about to reach to the privacy of their room when Thomas sees three men leaving the room at the far end of the corridor. Even though his vision is blurry because of the amount of alcohol he took all night, Thomas has no trouble of identifying them. He makes a mental note of murdering Basti and Poldi in the near future if they miraculously survive from the hands wrath of a middle-aged Swabian.

He stands completely frozen in the middle of the corridor, unable to move or try to come up with a solution to save them both from the mess they’re about to be in. He just nudges Manuel a little to warn him about the situation, but that giant he calls his boyfriend pays no attention to his efforts. When he fails in making Manu to behave a little more sober, Thomas completely gives up and just gently lowers Manu to the ground. At least this way he can kind of have a control upon Manu’s horniness.

“Thomas… and Manuel,” their coach acknowledges them with exasperation in his voice. “I hope you two have a valid explanation of this late night stroll.”

Before Thomas can open his mouth and try to get them out of trouble, Manu, who happens to be completely silent save for the majority of their kinda-walk of shame, decides to say something on the matter.

“’eeeeyyy Coach,” he exclaims loudly. It’s so obvious in his voice that he’s drunk that there’s no way they can come back from this. “We’re jus’ playin’ a game with the others. Wanna join???”

“Hmm, what game is this actually, Manuel. Care to tell us?”

Manu tries to get up from the floor before answering his coach’s question, but fails miserably and falls down. The companions of Jogi, Andi and Olli, help Manu to get up, and honestly, Thomas just wishes that they wouldn’t do that.

“Is a drinkin’ gaaaame, _Schweinski_ found it.”

He’s about to fall down once again, but this time it’s Thomas who catches him before he reaches to the ground and injuring himself severely. And once Manuel gets his hands on Thomas, he definitely doesn’t let go. As if he has no idea that there are people watching them, the goalkeeper puts his head on his shoulder and presses soft little kisses to his neck up and down. “ ‘ello, love. You smell soooooo nice.”

“Love? Did he just say ‘love’?” Jogi asks while arching his eyebrows in surprise. He’s beetroot red by now, but Thomas isn’t so sure whether it’s because of shock or anger.

Thankfully, the beautiful soul named Andreas Köpke interferes before Thomas can come up with a reasonable response. “He probably thinks he’s his girlfriend, Jogi. Look how wasted both of them are.”

“You deal with that fools, Andi.” Jogi responds while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the energy for them right now. And reschedule today’s tactical from 1 pm to 9 am. I guess we have more stuff to talk with the squad than we originally planned.”

***

Andi helps them to find their room and opens the door with the room card Thomas fishes out of his pocket. Manu’s still clinging on to him as if his life depends on it, but thankfully, Andi is no stranger to their little secret. It is such a great thing to have an ally inside the tactical staff in situations like this because Thomas has no idea how they would deal with Jogi by themselves.

They’re about to go inside their rooms when Thomas turns back to thank Andi for his troubles. However, before he can say anything, Manu beats him to it.

“Mülliiiiii, c’me ‘ere, ‘is important,” he bends down to his ear to whisper something. But instead of whispering, he just says what he wants to say in his normal voice.

“Mülli, I want a dick up in my ass.”

Before that moment, Thomas could somehow be convinced to not kill Poldi and Basti. However, those chances are all blown away the moment he makes eye contact with a greenish-looking Andi Köpke after Manu clearly declared his request. Yep, Thomas will definitely commit murder those two the minute Euro 2016 is over. He just have to come up with a way to cover up the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [ tumblr ](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/) for prompts, suggestions, comments etc. 
> 
> Also, feedback/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Thank you <3


	3. oops... I did it again. (Steno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steno + "20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear.
> 
> Rating: General
> 
> Sets after Levante-Barcelona game.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Sleeping all alone for the majority of the year isn’t something Bernd likes or even pretends to like. He often finds himself tossing and turning, not being able to fully drift off, but at the same time not being fully awake as well. When he finally falls asleep after a great battle between his body and his brain, almost always he wakes up on the cold side of the bed, his face is pressed against a pillow that isn’t his own, breathing through the familiar fragrance.

He’d be so embarrassed by this if he doesn’t already know that his counterpart has the exact same problem. Thankfully, according to the man in question himself, Marc feels the exact same emptiness and longing and all the other cheesy stuff annoying couples feel when they’re apart. It’s the biggest relief for Bernd, really.

When he wakes up in the morning on a rare free Monday, his usual morning-self is on clock once again. Bernd just accepts the situation just like he’s been doing for the past two years and makes his way to the en-suite. Normally after a shower, a great breakfast, and a huge cup of coffee later, he feels more like himself. A few more weeks to wait and then their mutual uncomfortable sleeps will hopefully be over for at least a couple of months.

(Bernd literally has a countdown app to see how many days have left till their upcoming reunion, but if anyone dares to ask him about this, of course he’ll say that it’s for the World Cup.)

After the shower, he feels more like himself and goes to his kitchen to brew coffee and prepare himself a delicious brunch. However, his dreams are shattered the moment he opens his pantry and sees that he doesn’t have any coffee in there. Not a single capsule, even the kind Marc uses when he’s visiting is to be found in the pantry.

Bernd just sighs and mutters a “Fuck it,” while closing the pantry door. He can’t be bothered by this in a beautiful, sunny morning. So he just grabs his phone, wallet, sunglasses, and earphones and heads to his (and Marc’s) favorite brunch spot.

***

Only halfway through his sumptuous brunch Bernd remembers that his boyfriend had a game the night before. He didn’t get to see the game because of some family event he was obliged to attend, and he went to sleep the moment he set his foot on his bedroom.

He briefly wonders if forgetting your other half’s game could be considered as being a shitty-boyfriend, but brushes off that thought almost immediately. Marc’s team has declared themselves champions since weeks ago, one game wouldn’t change anything. Still, he should complete his boyfriendship duties and at least watch the highlights of their game.

When he sees the title of the video, Levante UCD 5:4 FC Barcelona, only one thing comes to his mind: “Okay, clearly Marc was on the bench for this game”. Oh, he’s about to find out how wrong he has been.

After the video is ended, Bernd is just filled with a strong urge to fly to Barcelona and yell at the defense line Marc had for the game. He just wants to yell at them for 10 minutes without even a break to breathe, and then he can cuddle with Marc afterwards. No cuddling before he reprimands the idiots though, cause that’d only make him softer and unable to put his anger into words properly.

The camera first zooms to Marc, who was clearly devastated, and then to the shitheads Marc calls his teammates. He says a heartfelt “Assholes,” to his phone screen, hoping that the anger he let on to cross over France and finds its rightful place in Catalonia.

He startles when someone behind him clears his throat and says, “Babe, you really shouldn’t talk about my teammates like this, we’ve talked about this before.”

Bernd recognizes the owner of the voice before seeing him, and a second later the man himself comes into his view. With all his charm and gorgeousness, it’s Marc-Andre ter Stegen who’s standing in front of him.

“How… Where… I mean when did you come?” Bernd stutters, he’s clearly surprised but at the same time grateful because of the situation. His dimples are on full display and that is enough evidence to assure Marc about how he made his lover happy with his little surprise.

Marc sits down on the empty chair in front of Bernd, and looks at the menu briefly before answering.

“Well, my plane landed like, almost one hour ago? I just took a cab and went to your place, but you weren’t there, so I assumed that you might have stayed over at your mom’s,” he says while trying to catch the waitress’ attention. “And you had no coffee in your house so I came here and guess what? My boyfriend is trash-talking about my friends to no one!”

Of course he’s mocking Bernd and of course Bernd only answers to this with an eye-roll and a huff.

The waitress finally notices Marc and he orders an Eggs Benedict, a Danish pastry, and the strongest coffee on the menu. When the waitress takes his orders and leaves them alone, Bernd intertwines their fingers under the table.

“How do you feelin’?” he asks quietly.

Marc just shrugs as a response, and Bernd completely understands what he meant by a little gesture as if his boyfriend used a thousand words.

“Did Pique send you here again?”

The other goalkeeper chuckles softly, and it’s a great relief for Bernd because that little chuckle usually means that his boyfriend’s spirits can easily be uplifted.

“Nah, babe, this time it was my idea. I’m all yours for the next 36 hours,” Marc says with the softest smile, stroking the back of Bernd’s hand with his thumb.

Before Bernd can respond, the waitress brings their orders. It isn’t so much of a problem for them, really, because Bernd doesn’t have to respond verbally anyway. What he feels in the moment, the relief, joy, and delight… All of them are obviously visible to the love of his life anyway.

***

Marc finishes his whole meal in less than 20 minutes, and they decide to go back to Bernd’s place so that they can greet each other properly.

Surprisingly, on their way back, they aren’t recognized by anyone thanks to the greatest inventors of history: the inventor of sunglasses and the inventor of hoodies.

“I’m serious though,” Marc says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Stop calling my teammates assholes, babe. They really like you.”

“Urghh…” he says. “You weren’t supposed to hear that asshole thing, so it doesn’t matter whether or not we discussed about this already.”

“Oh, and also,” Bernd continues, “If they keep playing like a bunch of headless chickens and ruin your Zubizarreta Award, I’ll definitely call them assholes again.”

The other goalkeeper stops walking all of a sudden, checks their surroundings quickly to see if anyone is prying of them. The alley that leads to Bernd’s house is completely empty save them, so he just holds Bernd’s hand to face him. Then, he cups Bernd’s face, and plants the tiniest, the most innocent kiss on his boyfriend’s lips.

“You’re a dork,” he says quietly to Bernd. “You’re such a dork, god, I love you.”

This time it’s Bernd who kisses the other. “I love you too, dorker,” he declares afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback/Kudos are always appreciated! Love you guys <3


	4. I'll whisper to you, close your eyes now (Steno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen and Up.
> 
> Steno + [14\. things you said after you kissed me. ](http://leonhoeretzka.tumblr.com/post/173682124452/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a)
> 
> Sets right after the previous Steno prompt. 
> 
> Also, #sorrykevin.
> 
> Enjoy.

Before he got on a plane in a hasty decision, the only aim Marc had in his mind about his trip was to see his boyfriend. He just wanted to spend some quality time with him, and hopefully, get rid of the anger he inwardly carried with him since the game in a rather  _ too pleasant  _ way. You know, the usual stuff they busy themselves during a mid-week escapade like that. Considering they have only 36 hours, Marc didn’t have anything else in his mind.

He should admit though, the unusually warm weather in Cologne is a great bonus for him. Barcelona has been oddly cold during the whole spring, so the extra sunshine he’s benefiting in the backyard of Bernd’s house is more than a satisfactory addition to his trip. Of course, his boyfriend’s sole presence on his chest is doing the whole trick for him. Bernd in his arms, their limbs are tangled, heartbeats are synchronized, and his lover’s entire body is collapsed on top of him. Marc wouldn’t care about the sun this much if he were in Barcelona all alone, but with Bernd, it’s simply a blessing.

Marc hugs Bernd tighter instinctively, trying to make the most of the minutes he gets to spend side by side with him. He lifts his head a little up from the makeshift bed they did under the shadow of the oak tree Bernd has in his garden, and plants the most innocent kiss on his head.

(Considering what they were doing just fifteen minutes ago and how they’re still fully naked outside in broad daylight, it may have not be  _ the most innocent kiss _ ¸ but still.)

Bernd stirs a little after that, as if he’s trying to make sure that all of his body is in direct contact with Marc’s. Marc can feel his boyfriend’s fingertips running up and down on his arms, legs, ribs, spine, or to be fair, on any part of his body where he can reach.

Marc wants to open his mouth and tell Bernd that if he continues to do things like that, there’s no way on earth that he can leave him and go back to Barcelona to play some more lousy, meaningless games. But everything around them feels so serene and comfortable that he doesn’t have the heart to ruin their moment.

“Shit. Shit shit shit shiiiit… SHIIIIIT!” Bernd exclaims in that very moment, and stands up as if he’s been electrocuted.

“What’s going on?” Marc asks with a puzzled expression on his face. He straightens himself up to find the t-shirt he had discarded thirty seconds after they reached to Bernd’s house.

“Today is the announcement day, how did we forget?”

It takes fifteen seconds for Marc to understand what his boyfriend meant by “announcement day”, and once he fully grasps the urgency of the matter, and panics way more than Bernd did minutes ago.

“Shit, did you get a call? Did I get a call?” he jumps from his seat to search for their phones. “What if they did and we didn’t hear our phones?”

Bernd joins him to look for their phones, and after five minutes of searching and swearing and yelling at nothing in particular, they find what they’ve been looking dumped somewhere in the living room.

“No calls,” Marc states with a clear disappointment. “You?”

His counterpart sighs in return, shakes his head to indicate that he definitely shares Marc’s disappointment. “No calls. And apparently all the others got their calls. See,” he lifts his phone up to show their WhatsApp group chat to Marc. 

Marc sinks into the sofa, and just wishes to turn into ashes like half of the universe’s population did in that movie him and Bernd watched a few weeks ago.

“Maybe they wanted us to find out on TV this time,” Bernd says while sitting next to him on the sofa, he definitely doesn’t believe what he just said, but anyway.

“Everyone got calls. Why would they do that now?”

Bernd pulls Marc in close and holds him tight on his chest, and this time, it’s him who gives the other a head kiss. “Because they’re assholes?”

Marc doesn’t respond to that, instead he just focuses on Bernd’s hand in between his.

“I wonder who got selected instead of us, and like, I’m trying to come up with three goalkeepers from Germany who is better than you and me,” Marc finally says. “and… I know it’s arrogant of me to say that but, like right now, there’s no one else?”

“Well, maybe Manu is magically healed by a fairy who grants Löw’s wishes?”

“Okay but how about the remaining two?” Marc asks. “I was so sure that we’d definitely get selected.”

“Loris and Kevin? Or maybe Kevin and Ulreich? Maybe Loris and Ulreich? I don’t know.”

Marc snorts at all three possible scenarios and gets up to turn the TV on.

“What are you doing, babe?” Bernd asks.

“Well I wanna see who got our spots.”

Andi’s giving an interview about how hard it was to decide on a squad of 27 and how they were up all night having arguments. “Traitor,” Marc mumbles to the TV and then looks up to poke Bernd’s dimples.

“Wanna bet on who’ll be selected?”

“Hmm,” Bernd says while using the opportunity to sneak a kiss from him. “Winner gets to top during our obligatory grief-sex?”

“I like how that kinky mind of yours is working, Leno.” He grins at his boyfriend, though his mood is still visibly down.

“Okay. My bet is that it’s Manu, Ulreich, and Kevin.”

“Mine is Manu, Ulreich, and Loris,” says Marc.

Bernd rolls his eyes at Marc’s bet, because his boyfriend is a huge goofball who definitely doesn’t understand the shenanigans inside their national team.

“Loris will never make it, Marc, because of… you know, his thing. There’s no way they’ll select him no matter what he does.”

Marc’s about to open his mouth to lecture Bernd about not being this pessimist all the damn time and believing that some people might change their opinions, but his intentions are abandoned when he hears the intro music indicating that the announcement is about to begin.

“Well, guess we’ll just wait and see. As if we’re still in the U21s,” Bernd says with a grim voice. “Man, this is humiliating.”

The announcement video is started with the title, and the first person on the screen is Loris Karius, who is literally a baby compared to them. “Guess it’s you who gets to top tonight, babe,” Bernd says while he’s turning to his left to look at Marc. “It’s good that I already got eno-” 

“Shh, Bernd, look, look at this,” Marc interrupts him. He’s pointing to the screen frantically at the same time and hitting Bernd on his arm at the same time.

“Are you out of your mind? What’s wron…. Oh shit.”

It’s Bernd himself on the screen, making some pretentious tricks with a football like how they wanted him to do when they were shooting those incredibly stupid publicity stuff.

For a while he’s unable to react about this, unable to say anything. If you ask him later about how he felt when he first found out that he is nominated, he definitely won’t be able to give a proper answer.

The slideshow is continuing while he’s completely frozen, and he barely realises that Neuer is also nominated. And after Neuer, it’s the man sitting next to him is on the screen, effortlessly being cute while kicking the ball around.

“Oh thank god,” Marc lets out the breath he’s been holding since they saw Bernd is been nominated. He closes his eyes for a moment to calm his nerves, and when he opens them, Bernd is sitting on his lap with the biggest grin on his face. “We’re going to Russia,” he whispers.

He leans in for a kiss, and Marc gladly accepts and meets Bernd in halfway. It doesn’t take long for what started as a calm and innocent kiss to become a heated make-out session, open mouthed and with teeth and tongues everywhere, making them both breathless and gasping for air. 

Even when they finally draw apart to get the air they both annoyingly need, Bernd continues to pepper tiny little kisses on every inch of Marc’s face. Then, he stops altogether and cups Marc’s face with his adorably tiny hands as if he’s going to kiss him once more. Instead, Bernd just leans so close to his ear that he can feel his breath in his ear canal.

“Мы едем в Россию, любимый,” he whispers. 

Marc startles after that, looking at Bernd with wide eyes as if he just told him the secrets of the universe or something equally important like that. Of course he knows that Bernd speaks Russian to an extent, but that bastard never used the language in his vicinity before. He caught him completely off-guard like that, and  _ wow, _ Marc would’ve never guessed he’d feel this hot-and-bothered by a single sentence in a language he definitely doesn’t know.

“You’re so hot when you’re speaking Russian, Leno,” he says in between kisses. “Don’t ever speak in German ever again, it’s so hot.”

Bernd giggles at his desperation as if it’s the funniest thing ever, and Marc’s so damn sure that there’s nothing more beautiful in the whole universe than the sound of Bernd’s happiness. 

He’s about to suggest that they should continue their celebration in the bedroom, but they both received a message at the same time.

**Group Chat created by Andi Köpke**

**Andi Köpke added Manu Neuer, Marc-Andre ter Stegen, Bernd Leno, and Loris Karius**

Andi Köpke: _u guys liked my surprise??? Hahahaha_

_ I bet you all thought “ahhh man I didn’t get selected life is terrible” _

_ Guess what boys waking up with blue hair was also terrible. _

_ …. _

_ …. _

_ Btw sorry Karius you’re just a collateral damage in this. _  
  


“I hate him,” Marc only says. “I mean we’d be long dead without him and I actually do love him, but also I hate him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Apparently Bernd Leno knows Russian, it's something I recently found out so I wanted to include this in a fic as well.
> 
> \- "Мы едем в Россию, любимый" (My yedem v Rossiyu, lyubim) means "We're going to Russia, love".
> 
> \- Sorry Kevin, but I bend the truth a little to fit my babiest blond goalie into the squad. #sorrykevin, but also #sorrynotthatsorrykevin.
> 
> \- Feedbacks/kudos are always appreciated. You can find me on tumblr.


	5. your friends don't dance and if they don't dance... well they're are no friends of mine. (Loris/Some Guy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title is so unrelated but I really wanted to use this. It's from The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats.
> 
> Rating: General.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for the 10 minutes writing challenge. So it's really messy and all over the place but tbh I don't actually care? But again, I'm sorry in advance.
> 
> Sets right after [Meggie's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites) fic, [ "not what you think we are"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679156) and just before [Khalehla's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla) fic, [ "What's in a name?".](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711682)
> 
> Enjoy!

“So, um, my teammates wanna meet you,” Loris finally says, or rather rambles, after rehearsing that simple sentence eight million times in his head. “Not just all of them, I didn’t tell everyone, but… You know, the goalies. And Thomas, of course.”

There’s a silence from the other end of the line, a silence that worries Loris to an extent.

“It’s okay, babe. If you don’t want to, I will find an excuse to postpone and then we can pretend that we’re too busy with… stuff,” he offers to his boyfriend. And still, there’s no answer.

“Are you mad at me?” Loris asks one more time, accompanied with a pout his other half cannot see, but definitely is able to hear all the way from Germany. He knows the blond man too well to not to understand that.

“No, I’m not,” his boyfriend finally answers. “Why would I be mad at you? I’m just… surprised.”

Loris lets out the breath he holds in for the last three minutes, and then, chuckles. “Why are surprised?”

“Well,” the other man sighs before continuing, “I didn’t think you’d want to take this step. It’s just that.”

Loris can’t believe what he just heard, god, that man he calls his boyfriend is so successful in hiding his stupidity that one would think that he’s actually the intelligent one in their relationship. Man, those people are so wrong.

“Baby, you’re an idiot. I mean, you’re my idiot but still, an idiot,” he says while laughing. “If I weren’t ready to take ‘this step’, I wouldn’t introduce you to my parents. Just think a little, love.”

“Stop insulting your elders, asshole,” he says. “So, what should I do to impress your teammates?”

Honestly, there’s nothing his boyfriend can do to impress his teammates, because the group he’s about to meet is already quite smitten by the man without even seeing him. Although, there may be some points he should mention to him in order to make sure that he will continue to have a living, breathing boyfriend after the upcoming dinner.

“Okay, so take notes. Rule number one, don’t you ever, ever, dare to be in direct physical contact with ter Stegen for more than 3 seconds if you don’t want to be murdered by Leno. Rule number two, don’t even mention your hidden sympathy towards Real Madrid. If you do that, I definitely will not save you from the hands of Manu, Marc, and Thomas. Rule number three…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no idea who am I thinking while writing Loris' boyfriend, I just throw some stuff to here and there. So let me know who comes to your mind as the boyfriend while reading this (and Meggie & Khalehla's fic as well), maybe we can find a common ground and decide on a boyfriend for the babiest member of the Queer Quartet.


	6. family affairs (Neuller)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neuller + [ 77\. "I lost our child" ](https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/146902678083/drabble-challenge-1-150). (also, past Hömmels; implied Wimmich)
> 
> Rating: General.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [Meggie ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites). 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mats is in the middle of a phone conversation, looking very serious and not at all like his usual cocky self when Thomas enters the dining room, trying so hard not to look like he’s freaking out but frantically looking under every single table. 

It’s not so unusual of Thomas to act like this, considering he’s always losing his (and Manu’s) belongings and then tries to find them before his significant other notices and reprimands him for being a slob. Also, it’s not so unusual of Thomas to loudly complain about the situation as well. What is so unusual is that him to keep yelling Joshua’s name, which is completely useless given the fact that the young player isn’t in the room to begin with.

At this point Mats is beyond annoyed at his fellow teammate, which is rather out of ordinary cause Mats is always the one who’s relating to Thomas the most, since he’s the messiest one in the team anyway. Just because he hides it pretty well doesn’t make him any less of a mess than Thomas, but at this point, given the situation he’s in, he can’t help but being slightly angry at Thomas. In addition to that, his friend decides to choose that moment to tap on his shoulder, demanding Mats’ attention. 

Mats just mumbles a “I’m sorry, wait a second, okay? Mülli says something. No, no, no… Don’t hang up,” to the person he’s been talking on the phone, and then turns to Thomas.

“I’m on the phone, Thomas. What do you want?” he says, slightly pissed off. 

“Have you seen Jo? I can’t find him,” says the younger man, looking way more alarmed than he should be. 

“No, I haven’t,” he brushes him off and goes back to his phone call. “Benni, are you there? Benni?”

When he gets no answer from the other side of the line, Mats sighs and drops his head to the table in front of him, clearly disappointed at how his conversation is ended. 

He doesn’t even realize that Thomas took a break from fussing until he sits down next to him and pats him on the shoulder. “I didn’t know that Benni and you are on speaking terms again,” he says softly.

Mats huffs some more. “Well, Mülli, as you can see, referring this as ‘being on speaking terms’ would be the exaggeration of the century.” 

Thomas only smiles at that bitterly and definitely doesn’t comment on the current situation of  _ Hömmels _ in order to maintain his friendship with both parties, just like he and Manu have decided the very first day they got the news of their break-up. He acts accordingly to their decision once again, and lets the comfortable silence take over the room.

After a few minutes of them sitting side by side, Mats decides to stop being a drama queen for a few minutes to be a good friend and ask Thomas what’s been worrying him. “What was your question again?”

With that, Thomas remembers his panic from a few minutes ago and immediately stands up, dragging Mats with him as well. “I lost Jo. No, don’t roll your eyes at me like that, Hummels. I  _ really _ lost him. Manu’s gonna kill me.”

“Do I even wanna know the backstory of how exactly did you manage to lose a 23 year-old?” Mats asks suspiciously, then remembers the bike ride Thomas and Joshua went on a few hours ago. “Wait, no, nevermind. Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna share this responsibility with you.”

“Manu’s gonna kill me,” Thomas whines. “He’s gonna kill me, and then Jule no.2 is gonna complain to Marco about how I lost his bae and then he’s gonna kill me too.”

“Don’t forget about Bernd, he’ll kill you too,” Mats adds with a smug grin on his face, he’s enjoying his friend’s desperation way too much.

Thomas groans at the older man, and just drags Mats with him in his quest to find their teammate before Manu realizes that neither he nor Joshua is nowhere to be found.

“It’s official, you’re a dead man now,” Mats declares after half an hour searching every single place Jo could be in, including the forest near the training facilities. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of your fatherless horses.”

Thomas is about to smack Mats on the head as a response when his other half walks in on them, looking completely relaxed. “What are you two up to?” he asks while he’s pecking Thomas on the cheek. “If it’s anything that’d make Jogi angry, I wanna be a part of it.”

Mats lets out a bark, and just motions to Thomas to answer the question. 

Well, considering they failed miserably in their mission, it’s best to let the team captain know that one of their teammates is missing. It would probably cause Thomas a very big trouble, but at this point, there’s no other option to even consider. 

“Babe, don’t be angry,” Thomas starts explaining. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Manu raises his eyebrows at that, considering Thomas’ history, any explanation starting with that sentence usually never ends with something  _ that big of a deal.  _ “And?” he asks.

“I lost our child,” Thomas says regretfully. “I mean, Joshua. I think we should call the police, cause it’s been hours.”

The goalkeeper’s face is unreadable for a moment, and for a moment he only stares at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Then, he lets out a laugh. “He’s not lost, idiot. He’s been in our room for hours, complaining about how he’s heartbroken and sad that he doesn’t have Julian the Bumblebee with him here.”

“Oh thank god,” he lets out the breath he’s been holding. “I thought he’s being eaten by bears or something.”

Manu pulls him in for a hug with that, because his boyfriend’s distraught about the situation is clearly visible. After checking their surroundings and seeing that none of the Jogi, Olli & Co. is to be seen, he leans for a kiss.

After a few minutes of chaste kisses to here and there, Manu lets go of the younger man in order to not push their luck. “Let’s go back to our room, we still have an hour till dinner.”

“It’s a great idea, love,” Thomas answers. “And I hope you’re thinking what I’m thinking to spend our precious one hour productively.”

Manu chuckles softly, “Of course I am thinking the same. What did you expect?”

***

On their way to dinner after an hour of  _ productively spending  _ their free time, Manu suddenly remembers something.

“But wait, Mats knew that Joshua was with me. He was in our room when Jo came.”

Thomas stops walking all of a sudden, and squints his eyes at Mats who’s sitting together with Boa and Toni at the other end of the lounge. “MATS JULIAN HUMMELS!” he yells after a few seconds, “You’re a dead man, I swear to god, you’re a dead man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [ tumblr ](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/) for prompts, suggestions, comments etc. 
> 
> Also, feedback/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Thank you <3


End file.
